Page 95 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
Mort grimaced. ‘How low does the AC go in here?’
Lily produced her phone and pulled up an HVAC app. ‘We can get close to freezing. I mean, thisisa Christmas-themed wedding. People are dressed for the snow. And once they get dancing they won’t mind if the ambient temperature’s a bit nipply.’
‘A bit … what?’
‘I’ll show you later.’ Lily grinned, gesturing at her bodice. She adjusted the Naughty & Nice book so that it covered Mort’s trousers. ‘There. Just in case it gets a bit tenty, too.’
‘I’m not … aroused!’ hissed Mort, although he was a little, having at last figured out whatnipplymeant. ‘There’s a dead woman sitting next to me!’
‘Not for long,’ said Lily. ‘Here. The wedding party’s about to make their entrance. That’ll be perfect timing. The choir’s ready, and everyone’s pretty jolly on eggnog, so you should be able to jam her in there without anyone noticing. Plus you’ve got the ice sculptures in front of you for plausible deniability.’
‘They’re coming,’ said Duggo, hurrying past with Sausage (who wore a fetching reindeer costume complete with antlers).
‘Lyric booklets have been distributed,’ whispered Tink, who was dressed in her usual polka dots, but festive. ‘Is Aunt Jemimah all right? She looks almost … personable.’
‘She’s fine,’ Mort reassured her. ‘Just resting her eyes.’
‘And, action,’ called Lily into her walkie-talkie. The choirmaster gave a nod.
Sleigh bells started shaking; the soloist out front gave a spin of tinsel and string lights. Lily gave Mort the thumbs up.
The choir conductor cued everyone in on their note, then punched the air, rather alarmingly. The choir launched into a dramatic burst of harmony familiar to anyone who has watched a period film battle scene or a beer ad.
‘That’s not … “O, Holy Night”,’ whispered Lily, alarmed. ‘This is far more ominous.’
‘It’s “O Fortuna” from theCarmina Burana,’ said Mort, who personally thought it was a better choice.
The wedding-goers were looking around awkwardly, trying to figure out whether they’d all somehow shown up to the wrong event. Some flipped through the pages of the Christmas-tree-shaped carol booklets, trying to figure out where exactly in ‘O, Holy Night’ this dramatic interlude came from.
The choir reached fever pitch. Someone had brought in a set of timpani and was bashing the living hell out of it. Fire seemed to spurt from the candles planted in the wreaths hung about the room, and the snowy chandeliers flashed.
‘Is this a switcheroo thing?’ whispered Lily. ‘Or did the choral director just google songs that started with O?’
Mort grimaced. ‘Or worse, there’s a conductor in the crowd the choral director wants to impress, and now is the perfect opportunity.’
Lily groaned. ‘Of course. Dr Gardess – the bald one in the ugly sweater next to the woman dressed like a candy cane.’
Lily scribbled a note and hurried over to Dr Gardess. ‘Excuse me, Dr Gardess? Could you sign this for me? It’s not legally binding. Also,wowthat is a fetching sweater. An adornment of pom-poms could be a new collective noun.’
Dr Gardess, nodding along to the choir, scribbled his signature. Then pulled out a cigarette lighter and a wax seal and sealed the note with an elaborate stamp bearing something that looked to Lily’s untrained eye awfully like a masonic symbol. This could explain a lot.
Lily hurried over to the choir director, who turned to her, eyes flickering with the reflection of the candles. His temple thrummed in time with the timpani.
‘Um, sorry to interrupt, but Dr Gardess wanted you to have this.’
She passed the choir director the note, who thumbed it open and read it while flinging his free hand up and down in time with the seemingly endless crescendos of the choir. The walls shook alarmingly.
‘He wants to talk about a residency!’ The choir director’s eyes lit up (not with flames this time). ‘I knew it! My dreams are coming to rest upon the balcony of wonderment!’
‘Um, sure,’ said Lily. ‘Given that’s the case, how about we return to our regular programming?’
The timpani players dropped their sticks and grabbed up some sleigh bells instead. The unmistakable notes to ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ rang out, a cappella.
‘Another wedding saved,’ whispered Lily, as she returned to Mort’s side, ready for the ceremony.
‘Except for the corpse in the decorative fridge box,’ he noted drolly. Still, he was impressed with Lily’s problem-solving skills; nothing, no matter how ridiculous, seemed to faze her. It was hard not to be struck by a woman who could dispose of a body with a smile on her face.
The groom, in a delightfully tailoredElfcostume with a gingerbread man boutonniere, took his place in front of the dramatic wedding arch composed of snowy baubles and guttering lanterns, the throughline of which was tied together with tinsel and string lights. A finger in his ear to confirm that he still had eardrums after the timpani drum break, he kept a close watch on the doors.
